A Place To Belong:  Acceptance
by lorilee66
Summary: A sequel to my AU "A Place To Belong".   This story also borrows from a couple different BV episodes.
1. Chapter 1

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Big Valley, and make no money from this, but taking them out and playing with them is a whole lot of fun!_

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"Hey, Jarrod, how about taking your brother for lunch?"

Jarrod looked ruefully at the blot of ink marring the almost completed brief. "Nick, didn't your mother ever teach you to knock?"

"Well, I think I remember hearing something about that." Nick's expression wasn't the least apologetic as he strode up to the desk until he saw the ruined document. "Hey, uh, sorry, Jarrod."

Jarrod just sighed, but inwardly he wasn't that annoyed. The fact of having a brother was such a new and heady thing, he was willing to get used to almost anything to have that relationship, not that he was going to let Nick off the hook easily. "There goes my plan of calling it an early day," he lamented as he placed his pen carefully back on its rest. "This has to be on Judge Parker's desk before tomorrow morning." He watched Nick carefully out of the corner of his eye as he blotted up the extra ink and tried to hide the smile at his brother's chagrined expression.

"You still need to eat," Nick insisted, "come on, I'll buy."

"Well, in that case…" Jarrod grinned at the tall rancher as he stood and grabbed his hat off the stand. "The Cattlemen's sounds good." He followed Nick to the door and paused for a moment with his hand on the knob, unable to stop from taking another look at the space that now housed his law office. The spacious, wood panelled room was a far cry from the humble place he'd leased when he first came to town. He objected when Victoria Barkley first showed him the office on Stockton's main street, but she told him that since the family owned the building, it was only fitting that he set up his practice there. The grand lady was as stubborn or more so than any of her sons and Jarrod ended up acquiescing gracefully.

"Hurry up, boy, if you want to get a table!"

Jarrod shut the door after one last glance and locked it behind him before the two brothers headed out in search of food.

As they waited for a table in the busy restaurant, Jarrod noticed a few pointed stares and a few eyes turned away from them. It hadn't been as bad as he'd feared; the formidable Barkley reputation was enough to keep the talk to a minimum when the news spread about Tom Barkley's illegitimate son joining the family. There were those that snubbed the family when they showed up in public and one or two who crossed the street when they saw him, but that seemed to be the exception rather than the norm. Jarrod was settling into his new life and building a fair reputation for himself as a lawyer as his natural charm and confidence won over most potential clients. It also hadn't hurt that he prevailed in the Barkleys' land dispute with the Craddocks, even though he'd alienated Hal Walker, the former family lawyer and a long-established resident of Stockton, in the process.

They were seated and had just ordered when a loud shout came from across the room.

"Jarrod! What the devil are you doing here?"

Jarrod looked up and a wide smile came across his face. He stood and grabbed the offered arm, shaking the tall man's hand enthusiastically.

"Aaron, you old reprobate! How've you been?" He turned and shook the shorter man's hand just as heartily. "Gil, it's been a long time."

"Too many years, Jarrod," Gil agreed.

Jarrod turned to Nick. "Nick, these are some old comrades of mine, Aaron and Gil Condon. Boys, my brother Nick."

Nick stood as well and shook each man's hand. "Why don't you join us?" he offered and gestured to the empty seats at the table.

"Don't want to impose," Aaron started but Jarrod clapped him on the back and pulled out a chair.

"Not an imposition at all," he assured them and the four men sat down.

The waitress came over with coffee and after she took the newcomers' orders and filled the cups, Aaron turned to Jarrod with a curious look on his face.

"Never knew you had a brother, Jarrod."

Jarrod chuckled. "Neither did I, until a couple months ago. Now I've got two and a little sister as well."

"Hope she doesn't take after your side of the family," Gil joshed.

Grinning, but with a stern paternal look, Jarrod replied, "No and she's out of town. Don't be getting any ideas."

Nick took a sip of his coffee. "So how do you all know each other?"

A shadow passed over the lawyer's face as Aaron answered. "Served together in the war. Jarrod here was one of the best sharpshooters in the unit."

"Is that a fact?" Nick looked at his older brother, impressed. "How come you never told us?"

Jarrod shrugged uncomfortably. "Not much to tell. So, what brings you two out this way?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, this and that." Aaron smirked in his brother's direction. "Had to get out of the last town we were in. Romeo here's just too much of a hand with the ladies, if you know what I mean."

Nick chuckled. "Oh, I know all too well," he concurred.

Gil spoke up. "We heard that some of the logging outfits around here were hiring. Thought we'd try our luck."

"Well, if you're friends of my big brother here," Nick said expansively, "reckon the Barkleys can use you. We pay top dollar."

Aaron eyed Jarrod shrewdly. "Now, Jarrod, you don't look like you're doing any logging." He flicked the neatly fastened tie. "Not in those fancy duds."

"Nope," Jarrod said with a gleam in his blue eyes. "Got myself a little law office, just down the street."

"You don't say. Always knew you'd do good." Gil turned to his grey haired brother and back to Jarrod. "That colonel we met in Carterson, Turner I think his name was. He was a lawyer, right? Really took a shine to you, Jarrod."

Jarrod smiled uneasily and his tone was quiet. "Col. Turner offered for me to read law with him when we got out. If it wasn't for him, I'd probably still be working cattle or loading freight." He tried to ignore Nick's stare.

"Did he just say Carterson?" Nick asked in disbelief. "As in, Carterson Prison?"

"What, you mean you didn't know?" Aaron looked from Nick to Jarrod in surprise.

Nick stared at Jarrod and shook his head. "Nope, he never said a word."

"It's not something I like to talk about, Nick," Jarrod said slowly, "and I really don't want to talk about it here."

Nick wisely let it go for the time being and the conversation moved to topics of logging and ranching, but he noticed Jarrod didn't take quite as active a part as before. The men parted amicably after the Condons got directions to the logging camp and instructions to tell the foreman that Nick Barkley hired them personally. Jarrod was silent on the walk back to his office and when they arrived, Nick tried to draw him out with a brotherly hand on his shoulder.

"Jarrod…"

Jarrod shrugged him off. "Got a lot of work to do, Nick," he said brusquely. "Tell your mother I'll be in time for dinner, okay?"

Nick knew he wasn't going to get anything out of his new brother and resigned himself to not getting answers to his questions any time soon. "Sure, Jarrod."

Jarrod started to walk up the steps and then turned back. "Nick, could you not say anything? It's over and it's done and I've worked hard to put all that behind me. I'd like it to stay that way."

Nick nodded. "See you at supper, big brother."

.

Nick challenged Heath to a game of billiards after dinner and Jarrod was relieved he hadn't brought up the revelation from lunch, in front of the family or in private. He picked up the book he was currently reading and settled down in the comfortable chair behind the desk with half an ear on the banter from his two brothers.

Jarrod was surprised how easily he had settled into the routine of his new family. He had never thought of himself as a loner and had always found ease in the company of others, but most of his adult life had been spent with solitary dinners and evenings alone. He usually relished this time with the family and listened to Nick and Heath wrangle over their game of pool while Victoria worked on a quilt she was sewing.

But this evening, he wasn't able to relax in the family atmosphere. Running into the Condons and having Nick find out about his time in the war brought back memories Jarrod never wanted to remember. It wasn't like he could actually forget; the scars that marked his back and arms would forever be reminders of the time he'd spent as a prisoner of war. But like he told Nick, he'd worked hard to put it all behind him and was thankful he'd survived at all. Too many men hadn't; he helped bury enough of them within the prison fence and he saw too many of his comrades just give up, even after they'd been freed. There were just too many scars on some of their souls; Jarrod was grateful he only carried the scars on his body.

Some good had come out of Carterson, though, and that thought was what Jarrod hung on to. That was where he had met Joshua Turner. Col. Turner had overheard some of the talk one day as Jarrod and a few of the other young men tried to raise their spirits by sharing dreams of what they would do if they made it out. The colonel asked Jarrod later if he was serious about becoming a lawyer and suggested that Jarrod read law in his office when they were released. Turner insisted again after the prison's liberation and his offer started Jarrod down the path of his legal career.

Jarrod's musings were interrupted by someone calling his name. "What was that, Mrs. Barkley?" Victoria sighed and Jarrod felt a tinge of regret over causing her even the slightest bit of unhappiness. His father's wife had taken him into her home and her life without any reservation. It was something that amazed the young lawyer to no end, but he couldn't bring himself to call her anything other than Mrs. Barkley, despite her insistence that it made them sound like strangers. He was too well brought up to feel comfortable calling her by her given name and even though she treated him no differently than the others, he thought her own children might resent it if he started calling her Mother, even though that was the role she was slowly growing into in his heart.

"I was just wondering if you heard me say that we will be having guests tomorrow," Victoria explained. "Mr. and Mrs. Toddman. Mr. Toddman is in charge of our lumber operations and he has some new ideas he'd like to present to us."

Nick leaned on his pool cue. "Just wait until you hear what he claims he can do up in that lumber camp, Jarrod. We might even have to start offering him a percentage rather than a salary."

"Well, I'll believe it when I see it," Heath commented as he sunk the last ball. He straightened up and gave Nick a cocky grin. "Reckon it's not your night, Nick." Nick just snorted as Heath turned to Jarrod. "What do you say, big brother? Feel up to losing?"

Jarrod closed his book and set it down on the desk. "No, I think I'll pass tonight and just head up to bed." He waked over and gave Victoria a kiss on the cheek. "Sweet dreams, lovely lady," he said, pleased to see that term of endearment bring a smile to her face. "I'll see you all for breakfast."

Jarrod exited the library and as he headed up the stairs, he wondered uneasily at the cold shiver that suddenly went up his spine.


	2. Chapter 2

Nick reached for the newly filled decanter of whiskey, only to be stopped by his mother's hand on his.

"Uh uh," she scolded gently.

Nick sat back in resignation and crossed his arms over his chest. "I know, wait until the guests arrive."

Victoria made sure the crystal was arranged to her liking. "Now where are your brothers?" she wanted to know.

"Oh, last time I saw Heath, he was out in the smithy cleaning rifles and Jarrod should be back from town any minute," Nick told her.

Victoria sighed in exasperation. "Well, now, the least we can offer Mr. and Mrs. Toddman is the courtesy of our home with the entire family present."

They both turned as they heard the door open.

"George, put these away in the gun room for me," Heath instructed. He handed over two rifles to the hand that had come in with him before turning to the parlour. "Just saw a buggy drive through the gate," he told Nick and Victoria as he hung up his hat. "Reckon it's probably the Toddmans."

Once the pleasantries were out of the way, Victoria took Mrs. Toddman upstairs to freshen up and the men wandered into the parlour.

"Sit down, Matt," Heath offered their logging foreman.

Nick strode over to the small table. "Well, now, Matt," he said enthusiastically, "how about a dust-cutter after that long trip?"

"Sounds fine," the tall, lanky man agreed as he sat in one of the chairs.

"You name it, we got it."

"Oh, whiskey's fine," Toddman said affably and took the offered glass. Nick handed one to Heath before settling on the chair beside their guest.

"Okay, Matt," the rancher said, eager to find out the foreman's ideas for increasing the production in the Barkley lumber interests, "let's have it."

Toddman took a drink. "Oxen and horses take half a day to haul cut logs down to the river," he said as they got down to business. "Now a flume from the highest cutting stand will bring the logs down in less than an hour. Give me enough time and money and men and I'll give you a layout that'll make you one of the biggest lumber producers in California."

Nick and Heath exchanged glances mixed with interest and skepticism.

"What'll is cost?" Heath wanted to know.

"Fifty thousand or so," Toddman said simply. "It'll return that five times over in two years."

They heard the door and turned to see Jarrod close it behind him before removing his hat. "Sorry I'm late."

"Hey, Jarrod, come on in," Nick called, "there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Jarrod tossed his hat on the hall table and joined them in the parlour.

Nick did the introductions as their guest stood from his chair. "Matt Toddman, this is my brother, Jarrod."

Jarrod extended a hand until he saw the face of the man in front of him. His expression slowly changed from a pleasant one to a mask of pure hatred and his hand balled up in a fist. Jarrod swung and knocked Toddman across the sofa. The usually even-tempered lawyer followed up by pouncing on the downed man, only to be pulled off and flung back by his brothers.

"Get off me!" he snarled, struggling against them.

"Are you crazy?" Nick yelled.

"Jarrod, stop it!" Heath ordered.

"Let me go! I'll kill him!"

Victoria rushed down the stairs with Mrs. Toddman behind her. Mrs. Toddman ran to her husband as Victoria exclaimed in shock, "Jarrod!"

Jarrod stopped fighting and Nick and Heath let go of him, still keeping between their enraged brother and their guests.

"Jarrod, what's gotten in to you?" Nick demanded to know.

Jarrod took a deep breath and stared at Toddman with undisguised wrath. "That's Matt Bentell," he said slowly, unable to keep the venom out of his voice. His family looked from him to Toddman in shock as Jarrod continued. "Wirz of Andersonville and Matt Bentell of Carterson prison. They were two of a kind. What that animal did to us prisoners; I swore if I ever found him again, I'd kill him." Jarrod's eyes turned to cold steel and all in the room knew he meant every word.

.

Victoria showed the Toddmans to the guest room before joining her sons in the library. The atmosphere was strained as she closed the doors behind her.

"Now I'd like some explanations," she requested firmly.

Everyone was silent until Nick spoke up. "I just found out yesterday that Jarrod here was one of the men held at Carterson during the war."

Heath and Victoria looked at Jarrod in astonishment as everyone remembered the accounts of Confederate prison camps, the reports from Carterson being by far the worst.

"Jarrod," Victoria queried softly, "are you sure?"

"Am I…?" Jarrod turned abruptly to face her, his anger evident. "I spent seven months in Carterson prison. Seven months in the hell Matt Bentell made. Of course I'm sure."

Victoria watched as Jarrod paced to the desk. "Jarrod, the war has been over for years," she reminded him.

Jarrod stared down at his hands resting on the polished wood surface. "But not long enough to forget."

Nick remembered Jarrod telling him he wanted to put all that behind him, but seeing the rage on his brother's face when he confronted Bentell, Nick now wasn't so sure. "Maybe you don't want to forget."

Jarrod whirled around and strode up to Nick, eyes snapping. "Well, Nick, maybe you can tell me how to forget maggoty food and putrid water and floggings for complaining about it, or how to forget friends who died of exposure and other friends who died because medical help was refused!"

"I don't think any of us could forget, but we wouldn't be out to murder Toddman," Nick told him.

"His name is Bentell," Jarrod snarled.

"All right, Bentell!" Nick snapped back. "But what will killing him do other than get you hanged?"

"Don't stand there and defend him to me!"

"I'm not defending him, I'm protecting you!"

The men were mere inches from each other and Heath stepped in between them before they could come to blows.

Running a hand through his hair, Jarrod turned away to stare out the window. "There were seven hundred and forty of us fighting in New Mexico," he said quietly, "almost half ended up in Carterson and less than one hundred walked out when the war was over. There's not a jury in the state that would hang me."

"That's the important thing, whether you would hang for murder."

Jarrod didn't turn when Victoria spoke. "That seems to be what Nick's concern is."

She walked up and placed a hand on his arm. "Well it's not mine. I pray to God it isn't in any of my sons to commit cold, deliberate murder." Jarrod didn't respond, even at her use of the word 'son'.

"That's what it would be, Jarrod," Heath finally said, "cold, calculated, deliberate murder. Now you can put any other word to it you want, but that's what it would be. You should know that better than any of us."

Jarrod slowly faced them, anger written on his face and in his stance. "Well, for a start, how about the word justice? Wirz paid for what he did at Andersonville, he was hanged after his trial. Bentell was brought up on the same charges and cleared. How can that be justice? And how can any of you understand who didn't live through a place like Carterson?"

"We can understand," Victoria stated bluntly and Jarrod looked down at her in disbelief. "But when does the hate end?" There was fury in her normally soft grey eyes. "When your father was killed, I hated as passionately as you do right now, oh believe me, I did and for just as vivid and long lasting a reason as you." She grabbed his arm. "But I stopped hating. I don't know if I'll ever really forgive, but I stopped hating because of what it was doing to me, because I had too much around me to love to go on hating. Look around, Jarrod. Matt Bentell is upstairs in the guest room. Is it really in you to go up there and kill him?"

Jarrod pulled away and walked to the other side of the room without answering.

"You know word of his being here is going to get around mighty quick," Nick observed, "and you know what that means."

"Yes, I do." Jarrod's tone was flat. "That someone will try to balance the scales."

"Jarrod, you need to go up to the camp with him," Victoria said suddenly and everyone stared at her with an incredulous expression. Everyone except Jarrod. His face was hard and cold.

"The devil I will."

"You have to go. You were the one in Carterson. You're the one who'll recognize anyone who comes to kill him." Victoria's tone was determined as she strode over to him. "Jarrod, it's hard to hate a man once you get to know him. So you go with him, you eat with him, you work with him, you live with him and you pray to God that you rid yourself of the hate that's inside of you, because unless you do, that hate will eventually destroy you." Jarrod turned to walk away, but Victoria grabbed him and made him face her. "Jarrod, do you want to hate so? Do you want the memory of Carterson prison to gnaw at you forever? What I'm asking you to do isn't supposed to be easy! Show us what you inherited from your father; show us some of Tom Barkley's guts!"

"Show us…?" Jarrod wrenched away from her and pulled up his shirtsleeve to send the cuff button flying. He thrust his arm in front of her. "I got these in Carterson." No one could miss the raised scars that encircled his wrist. "They tied you to the post so tight, it was surprising you were able to feel your hands when they were done with the whippings." He fixed each of them in turn with a hard glare, eyes cold and unreadable. "Just be glad I leave my shirt on and you can't see my back." He turned back to Victoria. "I thought I was going to die in that hellhole, but I walked out of there when the Union army liberated the prison. I had some support from a comrade or two, but I walked out of there on my own two feet and I survived to make something of myself. I know my own worth and I have plenty of guts of my own. I don't have anything to prove to anyone, not even to you."

Jarrod stalked out of the French doors, leaving the silent room behind him. He went to the barn, quickly saddled his horse and rode out the gate at a full gallop. He wasn't sure where he was headed, he just knew he had to get away from there, away from the judgemental attitude of his new family and the man who'd caused so much pain and suffering.

Of course he hated Matt Bentell. Who wouldn't hate someone who could treat men like animals, like less than animals?

_Not fair,_ his lawyer mind told him. _The Confederate army was losing; they had no supplies for themselves, let alone their prisoners. You know from reading the trial transcripts Bentell didn't have anything to work with._

_But that doesn't excuse the rest of it,_ he argued silently_. The beatings, the humiliation, not even letting a man sleep if he was lucky enough to get the chance. He could have at least tried to treat us humanely._

_Most of that was the guards, _the lawyer in him reminded.

_Bentell was in charge of the guards! He was in charge, he could've ordered them to leave us alone if we weren't causing trouble!_

_You were causing trouble, you were trying to escape._

_Of course we were trying to escape! What sane man wouldn't try to escape Hell if he had the chance?_

Jarrod rode on, trying to outrun the memories that he thought had been banished. He didn't slow until Jingo stumbled and he finally noticed the sweat and lather on the sorrel's neck. Pulling his horse to a slow stop, Jarrod slid from his back and rubbed Jingo behind the ears.

"Sorry, boy, let's walk a bit and cool you down."

The gelding willingly followed as Jarrod walked, and after a short while the lawyer realized he had cooled down as well. He thought back to Mrs. Barkley's accusations and the warning not to let his hate for Bentell eat him up inside.

He did hate Bentell; he didn't think anyone less than a saint wouldn't in the same situation. But on the other hand, it wasn't the all-consuming rage that his father's wife was worried about. Justice might not have been served when Carterson's former commander was cleared of the charges brought against him, but he was glad Nick and Heath had pulled him off Bentell. Victoria Barkley was right; it wasn't in him to commit cold-blooded murder. It was only the shock of seeing the man again, as a guest in their home that brought all those feelings back with a momentary vengeance. Jarrod didn't think he had it in him to forgive, but he found he was willing to put the past aside and let Matt Bentell live his life as long as he didn't have to be a part of it. Jarrod had moved on and made a good life for himself and found he couldn't begrudge the Bentells the chance to do the same.

But his new family's callous disregard for his feelings cut deeply. Having the understanding woman who accepted her husband's bastard into her home with open arms turn around and insist he work with Matt Bentell was a profound shock. Jarrod always believed that family should support and stand by each other, the way his mama always stood by him and he by her. He didn't expect compassion or understanding from a man like Bentell, but he did from people who professed to be family. Jarrod sighed. Maybe he didn't really belong after all.

The sky was starting to darken. Jarrod briefly considered returning to the house and just as quickly discarded that idea. Bentell was probably still there and he really didn't want to confront that man or the family again that night. Jarrod thought he remembered a line shack nearby and was gratified when the small wooden building came into view. He unsaddled Jingo and turned him loose in the small corral before finding a bucket and hauling some water from the nearby stream for himself and his horse. Going inside the shack, Jarrod built a fire in the small stove, found a can of beans and some coffee and tried to make himself comfortable for the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Breakfast was quiet the next morning as Silas silently refilled cups of coffee that had grown cold and took away plates that had barely been touched.

There had been much discussion after Jarrod rode away. Nick and Heath, shocked at Victoria's request, quietly told their mother of men they had known who were incarcerated in the prisoner of war camps. The older brother of one of Heath's friends had died in Carterson and Nick spoke of what he had never talked about with his family before, the day his company helped with the liberation of Andersonville. His descriptions of the condition of the prisoners when they came out were horrifying and Victoria's heart bled for what Jarrod must have gone through. It hadn't taken long for them to decide to fire the man they now knew as Matt Bentell and he and his wife left after they were informed of the decision.

Throughout that sleepless night, Victoria replayed and regretted every word she'd said to her newest son. For that was what Jarrod had become to her in the past weeks, a son of her heart if not her body. He reminded her so much of Tom, from the way he sat on a horse to the mischievous twinkle he would get in his blue eyes when teasing one of his brothers. But he was his own man as well, calm and poised with an innate sense of responsibility and fair play, and she realized that was what had caused her to fear the anger she saw when he was talking about Bentell. Jarrod's rage was something she hadn't witnessed before and she said the first thing that came to her to try and heal that anger.

It was hard to hate someone who you knew, that she believed. But did she really have the right to ask Jarrod to get to know someone who'd committed such atrocities against him? He was right; no one who hadn't been through that kind of hell could really understand and thinking back, Victoria couldn't find any reason to believe Jarrod was being eaten up by hate. She wept as she thought of the pain her hasty words must have caused him and knew she was going to have to do some serious fence mending with the young man she was coming to love as her own.

Her heart fell again when she came down for breakfast and Heath told them Jarrod's horse was still gone. She didn't voice her fears; she only had herself to blame if they came true and Jarrod had ridden out of their lives with no intention of coming back.

Nick tossed down his napkin and surged to his feet. "Well, I'm gonna go look for him. He can't have gone far; all his things are still here."

Heath stood as well. "Why don't I ride to town, see if he went to his office or stayed at one of the hotels?"

"Sounds good, Heath," Nick agreed. "I'll take a ride around the ranch. Maybe he holed up in one of the line shacks overnight." He walked around the table and kissed Victoria on the cheek. "Don't worry, we'll find him and drag that stubborn Barkley hide of his back here. It'll work out, you'll see."

Victoria sighed. "I hope you're right, Nick," she said sadly. She watched them leave and prayed she'd get the chance to make amends.

.

Nick rode Coco at an easy lope as he tried to think of where to look next. He'd already checked out a couple of the closer line shacks and tried to recall exactly what spots around the ranch Jarrod knew well enough to find. They'd ridden out only a few days ago to check on the herd in the south pasture and Nick suddenly remembered making a comment about having to make sure the cabin that served that area of the ranch was well-stocked. He was only a few minutes away from there and turned Coco's nose in that direction.

Nick remembered something else from that day, something he hadn't really thought important at the time. A tree had fallen, taking a section of fence with it and Jarrod offered to join him and Heath in clearing the deadfall and making what repairs they could until they brought out the proper supplies. The day had been a scorcher and the two cowboys soon stripped their shirts in the heat. But Jarrod hadn't, not even rolling up the sleeves of the gray workshirt he was wearing and his brothers kidded him about spending too much time indoors and joked that he was worried that he'd get a sunburn. Jarrod just smiled a little at the teasing, but didn't say anything and kept his shirt on even though it was soaked through by the time they were done.

Recalling the marks he'd seen on the backs of some of the prisoners released from Andersonville and the scars Jarrod revealed on his wrists, Nick shuddered to think of his brother carrying around more of those scars. He really hadn't blamed Jarrod one bit for taking that swing at Bentell; he was sure he'd have done the same if their positions were reversed and felt guilty for accusing Jarrod of not wanting to forget something that no sane man could. He'd reacted on impulse just like his mother, not a badly, perhaps, but just the same.

Nick was very glad they had fired Matt Bentell. He didn't want the likes of that man associated with anything of the Barkleys', no matter how much money he promised to make them.

The line shack appeared around the next corner and Nick breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Jarrod's sorrel in the small corral. He swung out of the saddle, tethered Coco to the fence and took a deep breath before knocking and opening the door. Jarrod didn't look up from the dishes he was cleaning.

"We fired Bentell."

That statement made Jarrod turn around, but his face was unreadable. "He could make you thousands of dollars, Nick," he said with a faint hint of surprise in his voice.

Nick was hurt. "You think money matters more than family, Jarrod?"

Jarrod shook his head. "Nick, I said I won't work with him. That doesn't mean you have to fire him."

"The devil it doesn't!" Nick yelled. "You're my brother, Jarrod, and he's…" Nick pursed his lips in frustration and then sighed. "We were wrong. We should've never said those things or asked you to work with him. We should've given Bentell his walking papers as soon as you told us who he was. Mother feels awful about what she said to you."

Jarrod wiped the last dish and paced across the room. "That's the crux of it, isn't it, Nick?" He leaned against the wall to look out the window. " 'Show us what you inherited from your father'. I'm grateful to him for what he did for my mama and me when he sent that money, but I never even met the man. How the devil am I supposed to know what I inherited from him? I've made it this far on my own without that and right now, I don't know why I should even care."

"You shouldn't." Jarrod turned as Nick continued. "You might be grateful, but when he found out about you, all he did was toss some money your mother's way to ease his conscience instead of acknowledging you and giving you the Barkley name that you deserved. Took a lot of guts, didn't it?" he finished sarcastically.

"Nick, I never wanted you to doubt your father," Jarrod said regretfully. "Tom Barkley must've been a good man to raise sons like you and Heath and to keep the love and respect of a woman like your mother."

"How could a good man leave his son to grow up thinking his father didn't want him?" Nick demanded to know.

"He had his reasons, Nick. Four of them that I can think of." At Nick's questioning look, he said, "Your mother, Audra, Heath and you."

Nick couldn't miss the hint of sadness in Jarrod's tone. He got up and walked over to put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "He should have told us," Nick said softly. "You're just as much his son as I am. I wish we could've known each other growing up."

Jarrod turned with a wistful smile on his face. "I wish that too, brother Nick."

Nick gave Jarrod's shoulder a squeeze. "Come on home, big brother. I think Mother's worried she drove you away and you won't come back."

"It hurt, Nick," the dark haired lawyer said softly. "I can't argue with her wanting me to leave the hate behind and I don't know if I'll ever completely be able to do that. But I haven't dwelled on it for a long time and having her accuse me like that…" He looked up and blue eyes met hazel. "I'd like to think I would've stopped before killing him even if you and Heath hadn't been there."

"She worries, Jarrod," advised Nick. "As she's told me many times, she's a mother and it's her job to protect her children, even from themselves if necessary."

"Maybe so, but I'm not one of her children," Jarrod reminded him. "If it had been you or Heath, do you really think she would have asked that of you?" He shook his head wearily. "She's shown me every kindness, but I'm not her son, I'm just her husband's by-blow. My mama's dead and buried."

Nick wasn't really sure what he should say. "You're part of the family, Jarrod," he finally affirmed, "and I know Mother thinks of you as one of her own. We all make mistakes, even her. The two of you just need to talk."

Jarrod heaved a deep sigh and nodded reluctantly. He led the way outside and proceeded to saddle up Jingo and the ride back to the ranch was undertaken mostly in silence. Nick handed the reins of both mounts to the stableman and slung an arm around Jarrod's shoulders as they walked into the house. He could tell Jarrod didn't feel like talking, but Nick wanted his new brother to know he had his support just the same.

Victoria rushed up to greet them as they entered the house and Jarrod dutifully let her take his hand and kiss his cheek. "Jarrod, I'm so sorry," she told him with a voice full of sorrow. "Can you ever forgive me?"

Jarrod gave her a small smile. "Now, how could anyone stay angry at such a lovely lady?" he said politely, but both Nick and Victoria could see the sadness in his eyes.

Victoria was about to say something else when the door opened again to admit Heath and a burly man with a star on his vest. "Fred," she greeted the sheriff, "what brings you by?"

The sheriff took off his hat. "Morning, Victoria. I actually came by to see Jarrod here."

"What about, sheriff?" Jarrod asked and tucked his fingers in his pockets as he put on his lawyer's demeanour.

Sheriff Madden fiddled with the hat in his hand. "It seems Matt Bentell was found dead this morning. Knifed in the back."

Victoria gasped and her hand flew to her mouth in surprise.

"What does that have to do with my brother, Fred?" Nick demanded to know.

The sheriff looked from face to face before focusing on the lawyer. "It seems as though Jarrod was heard making threats on Bentell's life. Can you tell me where you were last night, son?"

"I spent the night out on the south part of the ranch, in one of the line shacks there," Jarrod offered, knowing the question that would be coming next.

"And did anyone see you?"

"No."

"Now, come on, Fred, you know Jarrod wouldn't do something like that," Heath said in defence of his brother.

"No, Heath, I don't know that," Fred stated bluntly. "Jarrod, I need you to come into town with me."

"Now wait just a minute…!" Nick objected, but Jarrod stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"He's just doing his job, Nick," Jarrod cautioned. "Don't worry, I'm sure this'll be cleared up in no time."

"Well, you're not going alone," Nick said firmly.

Heath nodded. "We're gonna come to town with you, straighten this mess out."

Victoria put a hand on Jarrod's arm. "This family stands together, Jarrod," she assured him.

Jarrod covered her small hand with his briefly and smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He turned back to the lawman. "Let's go, sheriff."


	4. Chapter 4

"C'mon, Fred!" Nick hotly slapped his hat down on the sheriff's desk. "There's lots of men who wanted Matt Bentell dead and you know it!"

Sheriff Madden looked at the other dark-haired man who was leaning quietly against the wall of the office. He didn't know him well, but everything he'd seen of the young lawyer since he came to Stockton just didn't fit with the image of a cold-blooded killer. Fred sighed and looked back at the irate rancher and then to the calmer blond. These were men he did know, and knew well. The Barkley sons could be a couple of hotheads who wouldn't back down from a fight, but they weren't murderers and in spite of the accusations, he couldn't believe that Tom's other son was, either. He hung his hat on a hook and went over to the small stove. "Coffee?" he offered as he poured himself a cup.

"Fred, so help me…"

Heath put out a hand to restrain his older brother and warned, "Nick."

Fred took a sip of the burnt coffee and made a face before setting it on the desk. "You're right," he agreed. "A lot of folks did want Bentell dead. But only Jarrod here was heard making threats."

"Threatening a man doesn't generally lead to charges," Jarrod finally spoke up. "It's circumstantial at best."

Fred shook his head. "I know, Jarrod, but there's more…" He was cut off as the door to the office swung open and a portly man bustled in.

"Good work, Sheriff," he puffed as he wiped a handkerchief across his florid face. "But why isn't this murderer behind bars?"

"Walker, what the devil are you doing here?" Nick exploded.

If the situation hadn't been so serious, Fred would've chuckled when he noticed Hal Walker nervously keep the desk between himself and the angry man. There was no love lost between Walker and the Barkleys and the sheriff wished Clem Greene hadn't taken leave to visit his ailing sister. "Nick, Mr. Walker is acting District Attorney." He braced himself.

"What?" came the expected roar. "Are you trying to tell me that this pompous windbag…"

Jarrod pushed away from the wall and went over to his brothers. "Nick, I don't think insulting the man is going to help," he said.

"Walker, you can't throw my brother in jail for something he said in the heat of the moment," Heath stated calmly.

"Oh, yes, I can." Walker puffed up like a strutting partridge. "I can on account of the eyewitness who saw him knife Bentell." He looked smugly at the Barkleys' shocked faces. "The dead man's wife saw the whole thing. Her description fits like a glove."

Nick and Heath glanced at each other before looking to Jarrod.

"It wasn't me," he told them quietly. "I didn't kill him."

Heath gripped his arm firmly. "We know, Jarrod."

Fred picked up the keys to the cellblock. "Sorry, son, but I'm going to have to place you under arrest." Jarrod nodded and let himself be directed to the door before he turned back.

"Nick," he called, "find me a good lawyer, okay?"

"The best, big brother," Nick affirmed as Jarrod was led to the cells. He glared at the district attorney. "Walker, if this is some sort of vendetta against my family, I'll…"

"You'll what, Barkley?" Walker scoffed. "Set that mongrel pup after me next?"

"Why you…" Nick lunged at Walker and the other man's face paled as Heath held his furious brother back.

"I'd be careful what you say, Mr. Walker," the blond warned.

Fred shut the door to the cellblock behind him. "Nick, you need to cool down. You boys go home or grab yourselves something to eat. And find your brother that lawyer. There's a chance the judge could set an indictment hearing sometime this afternoon."

Nick snatched up his hat and slammed it on his head. "This ain't over, Walker," he growled as he stalked out the door. Heath didn't say a word, but his cold glare said everything for him.

The two cowboys stood outside the sheriff's office in the bright California sunshine.

"What now, Nick?" Heath wondered.

"Reckon we find Jarrod that lawyer." Nick huffed in exasperation. "How can I get the best when the best's locked up in a cell?"

Heath grinned and clapped Nick on the back. "I'm sure Jarrod'll understand. Why don't we wire Porter Hammond in San Francisco? He did all right when we had that contract dispute with the peaches last year and I hear he's good in front of a jury. Might not make it in time for the hearing if it's this afternoon, but I'm sure Jarrod can manage that if he has to."

"That is a fact, Heath." Nick fixed his hat more firmly on his head. "All right, let's go."

.

.

"How is he?"

Nick poured himself a drink before he turned back to his mother. "He's holding up, Mother. At least the judge delayed the hearing until Hammond can make it to represent Jarrod."

"Jarrod seemed glad," Heath added as he sat beside Victoria on the settee. "Said a man who acts as his own lawyer has a fool for a client."

The thought of Jarrod languishing in jail for even a few more days didn't sit right with Victoria. "Couldn't the judge at least have held a bail hearing?"

Walking over to lean on the mantel, Nick shook his head. "It's a murder charge, Mother. No way he'll be granted bail, not for any amount of money."

Victoria recalled the comment Jarrod had made in this same room, that there wasn't a jury in the state that would hang him for killing Matt Bentell. She prayed they wouldn't have to test the truth of that statement and wondered if the sheriff would let her visit.

"Walker won't even let us see him," Nick complained, as if reading his mother's thoughts. "Says he shouldn't get any special treatment even if his name's Barkley. Only his lawyer can talk to him and Hammond won't be here until next week."

Heath noticed the concern on Victoria's face. He sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. "It'll be all right, Mother," he said as he kissed her cheek. "I'll match Jarrod against that smug jaybird Walker any day, even if he's not acting as his own lawyer. As soon as Hammond gets here, I'm sure the two of them'll put their heads together and we'll see Jarrod back here for dinner right after."

Nick finished his drink and set down the empty glass. "Well, just sitting around here ain't gonna help anyone. We've got a working ranch to run, Heath. We'd better get at it."

He came over and gave Victoria a kiss as Heath rose to his feet. "Don't worry, Mother. He'll be home before you know it."

Victoria remained seated as her two sons strode out of the room. She remembered the look on Jarrod's face when he came back with Nick. He'd tried to mask it, but she had easily recognized the sadness and pain she knew she was responsible for. Victoria knew she had to try to see Jarrod, even though his brothers said he wasn't allowed any visitors. She needed to tell him how wrong she was, how sorry she was, and hoped Jarrod would be able to accept her apology.


	5. Chapter 5

Jarrod hated being confined, but that didn't stop his mind from working. He'd been trying to review case notes and contracts he had waiting for him in the office to try to keep his mind off his own problems. There wasn't much he could do about it in there anyway; he might be able to get copies of the evidence and statements, but he couldn't follow up on them or question witnesses while he was in jail. Maybe he could send a wire to that lawyer from San Francisco and have him appoint Nick to act on his behalf until he got here. At least then something could be done while the evidence was still fresh. He still wasn't sure what could be done about the rift that had started between he and his father's wife, but that was something he couldn't address from behind bars either.

Jarrod lifted his head when he heard the jangle of keys in the outer door.

"Just a few minutes, Mrs. Barkley," the sheriff said as he ushered the grand lady into the cellblock. "I'm really not supposed to let him have any visitors."

"I won't be long."

Jarrod got to his feet and walked over to the cell door. "Mrs. Barkley, what are you doing here?"

She gave him a small smile, but Jarrod could see the worry and sadness in her eyes. In spite of the words that had been said previously and in spite of his predicament, the young man had the certain feeling that she truly did care.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing, to make sure you were all right." Victoria held out the book she was carrying. "Fred said it would be okay to give you this. I thought it might help pass the time."

Jarrod took it and smiled when he saw it was the copy of Mark Twain's _Roughing It _he had borrowed from Nick a few days ago. "Thank you."

An awkward silence stretched between them before Victoria finally spoke up. "Jarrod, I need to tell you how wrong I was-"

Her confession was cut off by a loud voice. "I left strict orders he was to have no visitors!"

Victoria and Jarrod both looked to see the acting district attorney bustle in.

"This way," Walker puffed. He tried to take her elbow, but she adroitly moved out of the way. "No special permission, even if you are Victoria Barkley."

"I'm sorry, Fred," she said to the sheriff and then turned back. "Jarrod…"

He just nodded with a small smile.

The sheriff stayed discretely behind as Victoria followed Hal Walker into the outer office. Walker closed the door and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his face as he turned to her.

"Hal, we've known each other for a long time. I really can't understand your objection to my seeing my son." Victoria looked in askance at the family's long time acquaintance.

Walker's eyes narrowed at her use of the word 'son' and opened his mouth as if to protest, but Victoria fixed him with a steely grey stare and he reconsidered.

"Your 'son' is to be tried for murder," he blustered contemptuously. "Just because his name's Barkley now doesn't give him any special consideration."

Victoria had a sudden flash of insight at the smug look on Walker's face. Their former lawyer had already tried and convicted Jarrod in his own mind, not on the strength of the evidence, but because of his own jealousy. "Nor should it prejudice people against him," she reminded the attorney.

"Are you accusing me of prejudicial behaviour, Victoria?" Walker asked with a baleful glare.

"Hal, we've known each other a long time," Victoria said slowly. "I know you took it hard when Jarrod became our family lawyer, but I still thought of you with a great deal of respect." The emphasis on the past tense didn't go unnoticed.

Walker snorted and Victoria wondered why she had never noticed the man's resemblance to a pig before. "The Barkleys aren't the only people who matter in this town, you know."

His scoffing tone set Victoria's teeth on edge. "There's only one step from envy to hate, Mr. Walker," she said coolly, deliberately omitting the use of his given name. "And I think you've already taken it."

Victoria turned on her heel and left the building. She now understood how sometimes her volatile Nick spoke before thinking and hoped her words hadn't made things worse for Jarrod. She sighed. She still hadn't gotten the chance to really apologize and hoped there would be plenty of time for atonement in the future.

Victoria glanced down the street and saw a familiar figure, now dressed in black, emerge from the hotel. Not knowing if she was about to make things worse but feeling the need to do something, the Barkley matriarch moved to intercept.

"Mrs. Bentell."

The other woman turned and Victoria wasn't sure what she saw on the recent widow's face. "Mrs. Barkley."

"I was wondering if you could give me a moment." Victoria tried to appear calm and composed as she waited for a reply.

Cinda Bentell nodded reluctantly. "I suppose that would be all right. I've heard there's a lovely little tea room over on the next block."

"That sounds fine."

The two women walked in silence. They took a table in a back corner and ordered tea and sandwiches before either spoke.

"I want to express my regret at the death of your husband, Mrs. Bentell."

Mrs. Bentell gave a cynical snort. "Are you sure? Most folks are glad to hear Matt Bentell is dead."

"The loss of any life is tragic," Victoria said firmly. "It may be hard for you to believe, but I never wanted to see anyone killed."

Both were silent as their lunch was set on the table. Mrs. Bentell stared into her teacup for a long moment before asking, "Why did you want to talk to me, Mrs. Barkley? Is it because of your son?"

Victoria folded her hands in her lap. "Yes, it is. I can't believe Jarrod to be capable of knifing someone in the back. He's a good man, something like that just doesn't fit with who he is."

The widow laughed derisively. "You didn't see those men at the camp. How they fought like animals over what food there was, over scraps of clothing, over a place to sleep. They even fought over a place to die. You can't believe what men are capable of until you've seen them act like that."

Victoria tried not to imagine what those months had been like for Jarrod and bit back her angry retort that if men were treated like men, they were more likely to act like them. "Mrs. Bentell, I don't want to condemn or condone what happened during the war. My concern is my son's present welfare and seeing that the right person is punished for your husband's murder. Can you be sure it was my Jarrod you saw last night?"

Mrs. Bentell took a sip of her tea. "I'll tell you what I told the sheriff and the district attorney. I didn't see the man's face clearly, but he had dark hair and was the same build and height as that son of yours who attacked and swore to kill Matt yesterday afternoon. I called for help and he took off down the alley, faster than a scared rabbit."

"And you didn't notice anything else about him?" Victoria pushed.

"No, I was too worried about Matt." She frowned slightly. "There was something…" Then she shook her head. "I loved my husband, Mrs. Barkley. Matt was a good man put in an impossible situation and he'd been running from the spectre of Carterson since the end of the war. There were a lot of men who wanted him dead; I suppose I'm just lucky it took this long for one of them to find him…" Her voice broke with a repressed sob. "Excuse me, Mrs. Barkley, but I think I should leave."

Cinda Bentell got up and hastily left the room. Victoria let her go. Even though Hal Walker was convinced that Jarrod killed Bentell, it seemed as though the evidence, damning as is was, was mostly circumstantial. One of the widow's statements echoed in her mind.

_There were a lot of men who wanted him dead; I suppose I'm just lucky it took this long for one of them to find him._

A plan in mind, Victoria went to find her other sons and have them search for anyone else who may have had a vendetta against the commandant of Carterson Prison.

.

.

"Don't really reckon Abe Morley is the type to stab somebody in the back."

Heath and Nick had run into Heath's old friend at one of the communal watering holes. The talk inevitably came around to Matt Bentell's killing and while Abe didn't seem terribly disturbed about the death of the man in charge of the prison where his brother died, he did express sincere outrage at the means of the murder and that Jarrod had been accused. Neither Barkley thought he had anything to hide.

"Yeah, but I bet there are others," Heath said thoughtfully. "I mean, Matt Bentell wasn't exactly everyone's favourite person. Think we could nose around and see if any of them are in town, make everyone see Jarrod's not the only one who could've done it?"

"Good idea, Heath," Nick agreed, "and I know just where to start. Abe is the only man living in these parts that we know had a bone to pick with Bentell, but there were those two friends of Jarrod's. Remember, I said how they were the ones who told me about Jarrod being in Carterson?"

Heath looked skeptical. "You don't think friends of our brother would let him take the blame for something they did?"

Nick shrugged. "Dunno. Only had lunch with them the one time. And just because they went through that together doesn't necessarily make them close friends." He lifted his hat to smooth back his hair. "What was their name? Connor… Condon… That was it. Condon. Aaron and Gil Condon. I hired them on for the lumber camp, but it's worth a shot to see if they're still in town." He pulled his horse's head around. "Let's go."

The brothers split up to make inquires around town and agreed to meet back at the Golden Slipper. Nick was first to arrive and ordered a whiskey in frustration.

A sharply dressed man in a grey suit and bowler hat sidled up to the bar beside him.

"Heard the bartender call you Mr. Barkley," he said.

Nick didn't even look. "What's it to you?"

The other man raised an eyebrow. "Don't get huffy. I'm Fletcher of the Open Bulletin. Heard about the murder. If there's another side to the story, I'm the man to see it gets into print. Got anything to say?"

"Nothing," Nick growled and gave the reporter a dark scowl in the hope that he'd get the hint and leave.

But Fletcher persisted. "Kind of a shock, huh?"

Nick sighed. "You might say that, yeah," he admitted reluctantly as he took a sip of his drink.

The reporter smirked. "I guess you're wishing right now the old man's colt had never come out of the woods."

Nick slammed the glass down on the bar and turned his pent up fury on the other man. He'd been listening to snide remarks about his father and his brother's parentage all day and was sick and tired of it. His family was no one else's business and if the Barkleys accepted Jarrod, everybody else had better too. He reached out and grabbed the front of the other man's shirt and snarled, "Nobody says that about him to me."

Fletcher just shrugged him off. "You better get used to it. You'll find people like a good scandal, Barkley. And when the mud's on you rich ones, they like it twice as much."

Nick started to pull the reporter closer, but was stopped by a cautioning hand on his arm.

"He ain't worth it, Nick," Heath advised his volatile brother.

Fletcher just looked amused as Nick slowly let him go.

"My family has nothing to worry about," Nick said bluntly and turned his back on the reporter to talk to Heath.

But Fletcher didn't give up. "Does that mean you're sure he's going to be acquitted?"

Nick gritted his teeth and held a tight rein on his temper.

Heath spoke up. "It means he'd no more commit murder than herd sheep."

Fletcher pulled out a notepad. "Then you Barkleys intend to stand behind him all the way."

"With everything we've got," Heath affirmed.

The reporter raised his eyebrows again. "You oughta be more careful with your words. That could be construed as a threat to use the Barkley money, prestige and influence to make sure your brother gets off."

Nick's temper resumed its slow boil and his voice was menacing. "Well, now, I wouldn't say it quite that way if I were you."

Fletcher looked up from the note he'd just made. "Are you trying to tell me what I can write?"

"I'm trying to tell you if you misquote me, you're going to get yourself in an awful lot of trouble." Nick's fist clenched and he made a supreme effort not to use it to wipe the smug look off the reporter's face.

"Is that a threat?"

"That's a promise."

Fletcher tucked his notebook back into his pocket. "Thank you for a very good quote, Mr. Barkley," he said smugly. "I think you're going to find out you aren't so high and mighty."

Nick reached out to grab him and was stopped by Heath.

"Let him go, Nick," cautioned the younger brother.

Nick watched the retreating back with a dark scowl and finished off his drink. "Find anything?" he asked as he tried to forget the unpleasant encounter.

"A couple men matching the description you gave me were seen in town late last night," Heath told him. "No sign of them today though."

Nick took off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. "Well, if they were here last night, they could've been here when Bentell was stabbed."

Heath nodded as the bartender came over with a bottle and accepted a filled glass. "Just got to find some way to prove it."

Neither brother voiced the concern of just how hard that might be to do.


	6. Chapter 6

The tall grey haired man poked the fire with a stick in the darkening gloom. His expression was pensive and he didn't even look up as the other man limped up to the fire.

"What's got your britches in a knot?" Gill Condon asked his brother.

"Just thinking, is all." Aaron put down the stick and picked up his cup to pour some coffee.

" 'Bout what?" Gil slowly lowered himself to the ground.

"About what I overheard from those two cowboys, that Jarrod's been arrested for Bentell's murder."

"Yeah, shame ain't it."

Aaron looked up sharply at his brother's cavalier tone. "Gil, I don't know if I can let another man hang for something you did."

Gil fixed Aaron with a hard glare. "Well, from what I heard, Jarrod tried to kill him himself. That's how come everyone believes it was him. Besides, if anyone deserved killing, it's Matt Bentell." He leaned back against a large rock.

"Yeah, but Jarrod don't deserve to pay for it." Aaron slowly shook his head. "I just can't do it."

"What, so you're gonna turn me in?" Gil scoffed. "After you ratted out our fellow prisoners, your conscience has finally got to you?" He eyed his older brother harshly. "Well, come on, let's hear you put it into words."

"You would've died otherwise and you know it," Aaron snapped back. "If I hadn't told Bentell about the escape attempt, you'd have never got any doctoring. I couldn't let you die."

Gil sneered. "So I'm alive to carry the stink of your cowardice."

"I didn't hear no argument from you at Carterson," Aaron retorted hotly.

"Well, you're getting one now."

The two men glared at each other across the campfire before Gil finally looked away.

"Reckon you're right, Aaron. Can't let another man take the blame for something I did. Eighteen men have already died 'cause of me." He gave Aaron a hard stare and his brother couldn't meet his eyes. "But I ain't hanging for seeing justice done."

Both men thought for a moment.

"We could grab a couple horses, break him out." A gleam came to Gil's eyes as he continued. "If there's enough confusion…" He pulled something out of his pocket and even by the dim light of the fire, Aaron could see it was a match.

"Fire?" Aaron was appalled. "No…"

"You think of a better way to keep the sheriff and everyone away from the jail?" Gil smirked at the other man as he lit the match and watched it burn.

.

.

Jarrod lay on the hard cot and stared unseeing at the colourless roof of the cell. He'd tried with partial success to distract himself by reading and the couple hands of cards he'd played with Sheriff Madden before the lawman was called away. But now, in the dark of full night, the only thing he was left with was his thoughts.

He remembered the statement he hurled at the family in his anger, that there wasn't a jury in the state that would hang him for killing Matt Bentell. It was looking as though the truth of that assertion might be tested and Jarrod wasn't sure he really wanted to find out the answer. He flung his arm over his eyes. He knew he had a temper and did his best to keep it in check, but it betrayed him when he said he would kill Bentell.

_Just like you were all betrayed in Carterson._

Jarrod wasn't sure why that memory suddenly invaded his mind. He always suspected that the escape attempt was informed on. There was always someone who would sell himself out for a crust of bread or an extra blanket, but once they'd been freed, he'd tried not to dwell on it. It was likely just seeing Bentell again, or the fact that he was locked away in a tiny cell. He tried to think of something else, but couldn't stop seeing images of that cramped tunnel, the stink of the prisoners' unwashed bodies, the heat of laboured breaths, the screams of those who made it out only to be gunned down…

Jarrod pushed it away. He hadn't thought about that night since the camp was liberated, stashing those memories with others that were in the past and useless to keep thinking about, and he didn't really want to think about it now. He had other, more immediate concerns and he couldn't do anything about any of them either.

Jarrod forced his thoughts off the dark road that ended in a hangman's noose and instead tried to concentrate on what he was going to do when he was released. He couldn't really let himself believe that the justice system he believed in and was a part of would let him down to find him guilty of a crime he didn't and wouldn't commit. He had to believe he was going to be cleared and the true guilty party brought to justice.

Not that wondering what he should do in that case was much easier. He knew his brothers stood behind him. Nick telling him how they fired Bentell and his assertion that family meant more than money said a lot to Jarrod and some of the disillusionment he'd experienced that day in the library eased. If he could overreact and say things he didn't mean in the heat of the moment, was it really surprising that others could too?

Then there were the thwarted starts of conversation with Mrs. Barkley. She had started to ask for his forgiveness and said she was wrong. He remembered the worry in her eyes when she visited the jail and thought again about the snippet of conversation that he heard from the outer office when Walker escorted her out.

Victoria Barkley had called him her son. And it wasn't the first time, either, he realized. She had referred to him as her son in that ill-fated argument after his confrontation with Bentell and he wondered if maybe he'd overreacted.

She'd been concerned for him, concerned that his anger at Bentell meant the hate he felt would destroy him. But he still wasn't sure that she would have questioned that hatred if it were Nick or Heath who had been a prisoner of war. He didn't think she would have challenged either of her trueborn sons to show their father's guts by asking them to work with a man like Bentell.

Jarrod wondered how often he would be asked to prove that he was worthy of the Barkley name and if the place he had found with his father's family was worth it. He had pride in himself and knew that what he'd accomplished with his life was proof enough of the kind of man he was. But the thought of losing the warmth and belonging he'd found over the past months saddened him deeply. He had come to feel he had a home again and Jarrod realized he wasn't going to give that up without a fight. Families did hurt each other at times, even with well-meant intentions, but it didn't mean they didn't care and that was worth fighting for. Sighing, knowing everything would be moot if he was found guilty, Jarrod closed his eyes and resolutely tried to get some sleep.

He woke to heavy footsteps and shouting. Wondering at the commotion, Jarrod got to his feet and peered out the small window. He smelled the smoke and saw the orange flicker in the distance even before he heard the calls of "Fire!" He hoped no one was trapped by the blaze as he watched the fire wagon race by and wished he could help. Jarrod sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do while locked up and sat back down on the cot, but he was unable to shut out the sounds from outside. The noise slowly died away as everyone headed to the location of the fire and Jarrod lay back down for want of anything better to do.

A faint bump and a muffled curse from the outer office got his attention. Jarrod sat up and wondered who it could be. Surely the sheriff had gone with the others to fight the fire. He heard the jingle of keys and the door to the cells swung open.

"What the devil are you doing here?" he exclaimed in surprise as he recognized the two men.

.

Cinda Bentell woke to the sound of a bell clanging and disturbance on the street. Pulling on her dressing gown, she went to the window and peered out. In the distance, she could see smoke and the glimmer of a fire. She watched for a few minutes as the residents of the town headed towards the blaze and then, satisfied that it was nowhere near the hotel, she turned to go back to bed. But then she saw something out of the corner of her eye that made her turn back. Two men were quickly walking down the street in the opposite direction of the fire. That was strange enough in itself, but the limp of one of the figures gave her pause. Something tickled at her mind and Mrs. Bentell slowly let the curtain fall. She racked her mind, trying to place the disturbing thought and then it came to her with astounding clarity.

Hurriedly, Matt Bentell's widow got dressed and went in search of the sheriff. As much as she held those Yankee prisoners in contempt for the grief they'd caused her husband, she wasn't about to let a man spend any more time in jail for something he didn't do.

.

After supper, Nick and Heath decided to head back into town to see if they could come up with any more leads. It was a quiet ride, both of them thinking of their brother languishing in jail and the quietness of their mother during dinner. They knew Victoria was feeling guilty for what had happened to Jarrod and neither voiced their fear of what it would do to her if they couldn't prove that Jarrod wasn't guilty of killing Bentell.

As they approached town, they heard the fire bell before they noticed the glow of flames from somewhere near the riverfront. Casting aside their worry for the moment, the Barkley brothers spurred their horses faster to see if there was anything they could do to help.

.

Sheriff Madden walked back to the main part of town. Plenty of men were fighting the fire that started in an abandoned warehouse so he didn't have to worry that it would spread, but he did have to worry about the safety of the other businesses in town. With so many fighting the fire, it was a prime situation for looters and Fred felt it was more necessary for him to patrol the streets at that moment than help with the fire. He'd instructed one of his deputies to do the same and Billy had gone off in one direction while Fred took another.

"Sheriff! Sheriff, please, I need to speak with you!"

The tall man stopped and turned to see a blonde woman hurrying towards him. He was even more surprised to recognize her as Bentell's wife.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Bentell?" he asked.

"Oh, Sheriff, I've made a dreadful mistake." Fred wondered at the contrition on her face, but it was explained when she continued, "I was so caught up in the threats that Mr. Barkley made to my husband, that I…" She shook her head in distress. "The man I saw kill my husband had a distinct limp. I didn't remember until I saw him walking down the street only a few minutes ago."

"Where did you see him, ma'am?' the sheriff asked quickly.

Mrs. Bentell pointed in the direction she'd come from. "He was with another man. They were headed towards your office."

A bad feeling started to form in Sheriff Madden's stomach. "Come with me," he said as they headed quickly in the direction of the jail.

.

Jarrod stared the two men and at that moment, things started to fall into place.

"Couldn't leave a comrade behind," Aaron Condon stated while trying various keys to unlock the cell.

"Reckon it was the least we could do," Gil added from his position watching out the door.

"I appreciate the thought, boys," Jarrod told them as the bars swung open, "but I'm not about to run."

"C'mon, Jarrod," Gil protested, "you don't wanna hang for the killing of the likes of Matt Bentell, do you?"

"I didn't kill him, Gil," Jarrod said pointedly. "If I run, I'll have no chance of convincing a jury that I'm innocent. And you know I'm innocent better than anyone, don't you?"

Aaron looked at the door with anxiety on his face. "C'mon, Jarrod, we don't got much time. The sheriff ain't gonna leave this place unguarded for too long."

But Jarrod didn't budge. "It was cold-blooded murder, boys," he said quietly.

"And that night of the escape?" Aaron said just as quietly. "Shooting down those eighteen men was worse than cold-blooded murder."

"What he done the night of the escape attempt sticks in your craw same as it does ours," Gil sneered. "And you was almost one of them. I would've been one of them too if it hadn't been for this bum leg. So could Aaron if he hadn't stayed with me, but we weren't one of them, we lived."

"So that gives you the right to stab him in the back? You really think that makes you better than him, or doesn't it only bring you down to his level?" Jarrod challenged.

"Jarrod, we ain't here to argue right from wrong," Aaron told him. "Whatever we've done is done, now we're trying to make it right. Are you coming with us or not?"

Jarrod looked from the face of one brother to another. The Condons had been close in Carterson, as close as any brothers could be. Finding brothers of his own, Jarrod now understood that there wasn't much one brother wouldn't do for another. Another sneaking suspicion formed in his mind.

"You informed on the escape, didn't you?" he asked Aaron slowly. "To get medical attention for Gil's leg. It had to be someone who knew, and someone who knew he wasn't going to be in that tunnel. You're the only ones who were in on it who weren't there."

"We're trying to save your life now," Aaron argued. "What's past is past. Now are you coming?"

Jarrod shook his head slowly. "No, I don't think so."

Gil threw up his hands in disgust. "So be it. But I ain't staying around here to put my neck in a noose."

"I can't let you leave, boys."

All three men turned at the new voice. The sheriff was standing in the doorway. Gil rushed him and Jarrod took the opportunity to grab Aaron. They struggled; Gil tried to wrestle the gun away from the sheriff as his taller brother threw Jarrod off, slamming him into the bars of the cell. Jarrod was dazed for a moment, then shook it off and caught Aaron in the midsection with a solid blow. The sheriff's gun went off and the tall man staggered before slumping slowly to the ground.

.

The two cowboys heard a shot ring out as they passed by the sheriff's office. In unspoken agreement, they pulled their horses up short and practically flew out of the saddle. Nick and Heath rushed in, guns drawn and ready to protect their newest brother. As they entered, they saw the cellblock door open and Sheriff Madden standing in the doorway. Nick briefly wondered what Matt Bentell's widow was doing there before his attention was drawn to the two men on the floor. He recognized them as the men he'd met over lunch with Jarrod and saw the blood staining the shirt of the older brother as the younger cradled his head in his arms.

"No, Aaron, no," Gil said in disbelief, "it weren't supposed to happen this way. Please forgive me, Aaron, please."

More movement from behind them got Nick's attention and he walked over to his older brother who was gingerly touching the back of his head.

"You all right, Jarrod?" Heath asked from the doorway.

"I think so." Jarrod looked down to the fallen man and his brother.

Mrs. Bentell stepped forward. "That's the man, Sheriff," she said, pointing at Gil Condon. "That's the man who stabbed my husband, not Mr. Barkley." She looked at her clasped hands. "I'm sorry, Mr. Barkley. I let my anger at you blind me to what I really saw." She looked up at Jarrod and he could see the contrition in her eyes. "Can you forgive me?" Jarrod nodded and winced at the movement. "You're very blessed, Mr. Barkley," Mrs. Bentell added, "having a mother who loves you as much as yours does."

Nick put a supporting arm around his shoulders. "Can we take our brother home, Fred?" he asked.

The sheriff nodded. "If I have any questions, I know where to find you," he assured them.

As they reached the door, Jarrod turned back. "The fire…" he started, but Fred dismissed his concerns with a shake of his head.

"Under control, boys. Just get home safely, all right?"

"Will do, Fred," Nick said. "C'mon, Jarrod, Coco can take double 'til we get to the livery and get you a horse."

Jarrod paused again, looking at the men who'd once been comrades-in-arms, and then followed his brothers out the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Jarrod sat quietly on the settee and let Victoria fuss over the bump on the back of his head when they arrived back at the ranch. It ached a bit, but he'd hit his head a few times over the course of his life and this wasn't anything serious. But after spending the last day in jail, not knowing if he'd ever again see the place he now called home, he wasn't about to argue. Nick and Heath both gave him long-suffering but amused looks when Victoria told him firmly he was to go to bed after having a hot bath and something to eat.

"Better you than us," Heath snickered.

"You better listen to Mother, Jarrod," Nick teased, "or she's liable to get out her wooden spoon."

Victoria gave them a stern glare, but her grey eyes twinkled with amusement as well before she turned back to her newest son. "Are you sure you don't need to see the doctor, Jarrod?" she asked with a touch of concern.

"If it feels worse in the morning, I'll stop by when I go to town," Jarrod promised.

Heath snickered. "I wouldn't count on Mother letting you out of the house for a least a day."

"Well, Gil's going to need a good lawyer," he explained.

Nick was incredulous. "What? After letting you be accused of something he did?"

"He did try to make it right," Jarrod reminded his brother, "even though it wasn't the best thought out plan."

Nick gave a reluctant nod of agreement and slapped Jarrod lightly on the back. "Reckon he'll have the best lawyer there is."

As Jarrod returned his brother's grin, Victoria could see he was tired. "Why don't you two just head to the kitchen and fix yourselves a snack," she ordered her other two sons.

Nick looked at Heath. "I could eat. How about you, Heath?"

"Yep," Heath agreed with a lopsided grin. "Don't worry, Jarrod, I'll make sure he leaves something for you."

Nick grabbed his younger brother by the shoulders and playfully pushed him in the direction of the kitchen.

"Are you sure you're all right, Jarrod?"

"I'm fine," he assured Victoria. "Just a bit of a headache and I think a good night's sleep should cure that. No need to worry about me."

Victoria reached over and took his hand. "It's a mother's prerogative to worry about her children," she told him firmly and Jarrod had to chuckle when he recalled Nick telling him almost those same words that morning. She looked him in the eyes and Jarrod could see sorrow reflected there. "And sometimes a mother worries too much and makes a horrible mistake."

Jarrod looked down at the small hand on his. "Mrs. Barkley, you don't have to…" he began, but she stopped him with a shake of her head.

"Yes, I do, Jarrod. When I saw how angry you were after confronting Matt Bentell, it frightened me and I said the first thing that came to my mind. I'm sorry to say I acted without thinking."

"Would you have asked the same thing of Nick or Heath?"

The quiet question gave her pause. "I don't know," she answered slowly. "I've told them to work with men they didn't like and made them see it's not a man's past that's most important, it's who he is now, but never over something like what you went through in Carterson. It was wrong to ask that of you, especially in the heat of the moment." Jarrod looked up at her and she was amazed again at the expressive blue eyes that were so like his father's. "When you were gone this morning, I almost couldn't live with myself, thinking I had driven you away." She reached up and touched his cheek. "You're a part of my family, Jarrod, and it wouldn't be complete anymore without you."

Jarrod could see the acceptance in her eyes and hear the love in her voice. Anything worth having was worth fighting for and his new family was definitely worth having. "Thank you, Mrs. Barkley," he said sincerely.

"Oh, now, we're going to have to do something about that," she chastised him gently. "I can't have one of my sons going around calling me 'Mrs. Barkley'." Then she looked at him severely. "But you need to get out of those clothes and clean up before I let you sit at my kitchen table."

Jarrod smiled and, as he remembered Nick's statement about Victoria considering him one of her own, knew his siblings wouldn't mind if he thought of their mother as his as well. "Yes, Mother," he said with a smile and kissed her on the cheek. The loving smile she bestowed upon him told Jarrod he'd made the right choice.

As Jarrod closed the door to the bathroom, he wrinkled his nose. His new mother was right about the bath; he was wearing the same clothes from the previous day and spending a day in jail wasn't conducive to one's personal hygiene. He opened the faucet to fill the tub and marvelled again at the hot water that ran out. It certainly made bathing a lot less time consuming and his fastidious nature made Jarrod appreciate it even more.

He peeled off the grimy, sweat-stained shirt, taking a moment to regret the missing button on the cuff from his outburst the previous day before he tossed it in a corner. Boots were next, followed by his socks. Jarrod felt a moment's pity for whoever came in to do the laundry that week until he thought about what his rancher brothers' clothes must smell like every day they worked on the range. He unfastened his pants and soon they and his underclothes joined the shirt and socks in the pile in the corner.

Jarrod closed the faucet, stepped into the hot water and slowly lowered himself into the tub. As he enjoyed the heat that soaked into his muscles, he reflected that his father or brothers must have had something to do with the selection of the tub. It wasn't often he could stretch out while having a bath.

Jarrod leaned his head back against the edge of the tub. He thought about what the family had done after he was charged with Bentell's murder. His brothers stood behind him from the beginning and he remembered what Mrs. Bentell said back in the sheriff's office, about how much his mother loved him. He remembered what he'd overheard from her confrontation with Walker and felt the stress of the past two days dissolve away in the hot water as he knew without a doubt his acceptance into the Barkley family fold was finally complete.


End file.
